


Parted From Me

by celticmuse



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24762283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticmuse/pseuds/celticmuse
Summary: During the Pon Farr Christine find the courage to move forward with her life. A dark piece.
Relationships: Christine Chapel/Spock
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Parted From Me

He was still, so very still, and for a moment she thought, perhaps for a moment even hoped, he was dead. Apparently her medical oath trumped the revulsion she felt at the sight of him, because she half-heartedly wrapped a tattered sheet around herself and padded to the closet where she'd stowed her medical bag.

The room was claustrophobic, tiny, windowless, nondescript. Not surprisingly, given the general intention of such a venue, the bed took up the majority of the space. There was no desk or viewscreen, there wasn't even a chair to sit on. Utilitarian, like a prison, she mused tartly, but without the amenities. Of course they had not chosen this particular establishment for its ambience. It was the kind of place where no one asked too many questions and no one was in a position to call the authorities if the couple in the next room got a little too rambunctious. Rambunctious, that was certainly a vanilla term for it, she considered as she ran the tiny portable scanner over his pallid body.

Forty-seven hours, they'd been here nearly two days she noted as she waited for the -device to calibrate

Normal. Well at least normal for a Vulcan in the end phase of the _Pon Farr_ , she corrected herself laughing bitterly as if there was anything “normal” about a Vulcan. His hormonal activity was still somewhat elevated-- neurotransmitters working overtime, but the rest of his bodily functions were within the accepted norms. He would no doubt fancy another go round when he awoke but his life was no longer in danger so this was her stop. She pulled the faded coverlet over him, more from the disgust she felt at seeing his naked body splayed on the bed that from any concern for his physical comfort.

Strange, she thought she would feel more: anger, rage, perhaps hatred but instead she just felt cold, as if her heart had been surgically removed from her body. She recognized the symptoms of shock from her time in the ER where she'd treated rape victims. Victim? No, she was not a victim, not anymore. "This was your choice, Christine," she assured herself grimly "It was the only way."

Turning on the light in the tiny fresher she almost fainted at the sight of her reflection in the rusty mirror and without warning she vomited; it was fortunate that the toilet was close by. She turned on the water in the sink, wondering if it was actually safe to drink. Scooping up a handful from the running tap she examined it. It was clear and had no noticeable odor so she decided to chance it and rinsed her mouth several times before taking a long drink.

Allowing the sheet to drop to the floor she catalogued the horrific collection of scratches and bruises on her fair skin. There were bruises on her face where he'd attempted several times to meld with her despite his promise to refrain from any mental joining between them. He had come close at several points but she'd been able to derail his desire for her mind with her body. The dermal regenerator would take care of most of her injuries, though the bite mark on her thigh would most likely leave, at best, a faint scar. It was a small price to pay to crush the love that had kept her heart tethered for ten years to a cold man who would never love her.

Her fingernails, she noticed for the first time, were broken and stained with the dark green hue she recognized as dried Vulcan blood; it brought a strange feeling of pleasure to think she had perhaps scarred him as well. "Get on with it," she reproached the ravaged stranger in the mirror.

Pulling the tiny holovid recorder from her bag she balanced it on the empty towel bar clicked it on and stepped back as far as possible in the cramped space. Slowly she did a 360 degree turn for the camera, her face an emotionless mask worthy of a Vulcan. "Yes," said into the small recorder her voice cold and without inflection. "Love is highly illogical. This…"she ran her hand over the marks on her creamy white breasts, "this is so much better."

She would have liked to shower and scrub the remnants of him from her body, but the tiny shower stall looked as if it hadn't been cleaned since Neil Armstrong landed on the moon, and she had no real way of knowing how long Spock would remain unconscious. Though she'd attempted to plan for any contingency, she had not considered that in the throes of the blood fever he would rip her clothes from her with such force as to shred them to pieces. The set of scrubs she kept in her bag would have to do.

She turned the tiny recorder on again and began speaking, her voice cold, emotionless. After she finished the recording she picked up her bag and returned to the bedroom. Cautiously she moved toward the sleeping man on the bed, his breathing was heavier now and from the way the way the coverlet tented between his legs it was only a matter of minutes before he would awaken.

Positioning the tiny recording unit next to him on the bed, she felt a fleeting pang of regret that things had ended this way. Why had he come to her, knowing that she loved him, knowing that she'd finally begun to move on? But he did come, laying the burden his ancient alien need before her, knowing she would not let him die. Then came the final obscenity, the bond, the heavy iron chain to bind her to his need till her death. He'd offered the monstrous thing to her as though it was a fine golden necklace. That was when she saw it, the way out. _Kaiidith_ , the Vulcan word seemed painfully appropriate at the moment. What is, is.

Quietly, she opened the door, she did not look back but walked out into the morning light, the air crisp and clean. It was going to be a beautiful day she decided, and for the first time in a long, long time she felt free.


End file.
